


Homesick at Church Camp

by milkwithcalsehun



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Angst?, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Implied Smut, Jesus jokes out the wazoo, Love, M/M, Y'all I got wild on this, bc real smut makes me uncomfortable, church camp au, uh, what the heck is a wazoo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 01:40:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3631842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milkwithcalsehun/pseuds/milkwithcalsehun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick gets sent to church camp to cure him of his addictions, but he gains a new one instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homesick at Church Camp

**Author's Note:**

> Here we are, boys.
> 
> The Coldplay reference mentioned in this is from the song "Amsterdam", by the way.
> 
> Also, this was written circa 2014. Hella early 2014. 
> 
> Enjoy~~~~

According to my parents, I am a lost cause. I don't really see myself as a lost cause, no real behavioral problems or anything. I'm just not what fundamentalist Christians would call a perfect son. I smoke, because I have friends that are eighteen that can buy me cigarettes. Sixteen year olds can't legally buy cigarettes. I still have to pay for them, though. I guess that's enough to deem me a lost cause.

I also don't think Christians are supposed to be depressed, which is probably why I'm only allowed to wear long sleeves to church even in the summer time. Wouldn't want gossip to stir about their son's scars so it's easier just to hide them.

Lost cause. Yeah.

A few days ago, they asked me why I had never had a girlfriend. It is perfectly normal for a boy my age to have a girlfriend, and kind of abnormal for me to not. In reply to this question, as a joke, I looked out the window at the pool boy, shrugged, and said, "I dunno."

That must've been the final straw because it landed me in summer camp. A church camp, at that, designed for hopeless lost causes like me. I'm sure it hasn't changed many, permanently at least, and it probably won't change me. I'll be sarcastic, another behavioral problem, going in and coming out (ha). My cigarette addiction might cease, though, with nine weeks without them.  
(On the camp brochure they handed me, it said that there would be frequent cabin searches for drugs and alcohol. I'm sure the other lost causes have addictions worse than mine.) I'm also sure weapons, i.e. razors, are probably off limits, so my current scars will probably fade just in time for the last few days of summer and the last few days of short sleeves. Thank God I convinced them to let me pack tshirts for camp. I can't get better if no one sees that I need help. That argument always pulls through for me.

I told my friends that there was no getting out of church camp. Joe, the biggest stoner I knew, just said, "Bummer, dude," and leaned his head back.  
His latest girl looked genuinely concerned and told me, "Just try not to get infected with religion, man."  
I thanked her for advice and looked at my best friend.

"Dude, like it sucks you have to go away. Especially after all the stuff we planned for summer, but there's no getting out of this one," Andy said, shaking his head.

"I know, but support would be nice," I said.

"You're fucked, Patrick," Joe said in the most supportive tone he could muster.

The girl giggled and Andy patted my shoulder. I left my garage to go finish packing.

*

My mom cried while sending me off. She had never put her problems on a plane before to ship them to another state, and it appeared to be hard to part with the thing that caused her grief and shame. She loved her baby boy despite everything. My father looked as excited as he did before his last colonoscopy.

Joe and Andy were there too, as well as Brendon, who couldn't make it to the going away party in my garage. I was sadder to part from them than I was from my own family.

After I hugged my mom, and my dad had his mandatory dad hug, I walked over to my friends. Joe put his arms around me and picked me up off the ground.

"Dude, are you crying?" I asked him.

"No, I just got some emotion in my eye," he said and put me down.

Brendon hugged me next, telling me he put a pack of cigarettes and a lighter in my suitcase so I didn't have to suffer withdrawals immediately.

I smiled and thanked him.

Last was Andy, who hugged me the longest. He knew me the best out of anyone.

"I think I'll miss you most of all, Scarecrow," I whispered in his ear.

"Go to hell," he whispered back.

I broke away and waved bye to everyone before boarding my plane.

I was going to a camp in the south, where the religious values ran deep, Texas to be exact. I wasn't going to the southeast where it was okay to love your cousin, or to the few states in the southeast where it was kind of okay to love someone of a different race or of the same gender. I was going to Texas. Only same race, different gender couples were okay, or so I'd heard. A city kid like me had no idea what to expect. I'd only heard rumors of intolerant, ignorant asshats that seemed to be the only inhabitants of this state. I had no idea, only knew that I was going.

When I got to the airport, there was a driver waiting for me and a few other kids to drive us to camp Jesus Saves or whatever it was called.

After I got my luggage, I stood by the driver and waited for everyone else. After the last kid arrived and got his luggage, we all piled in the rickety church bus.

On the trip to the camp, I had a good look at some of my fellow campers. One girl had plugs and five other piercings in each ear. She had a stud and a ring in her nose, a tongue piercing, an eyebrow piercing, and a belly button ring that matched her blue eyes and blue half-shirt.

The girl sitting next to me informed me when we got on that she was three months pregnant and entitled to the fucking window seat. I scooted over. It allowed me at a better look at the guy next to me.

He reminded me of Joe, with his dark hair and bloodshot eyes. He greeted me with a fist pound.

None of the people in the bus seemed like bad people. Maybe they were born into an unaccepting family like me.

We arrived at the camp and hopped off the bus. We were greeted by a counselor who gave us our cabin assignments. The girls' and guys' cabins were on seperate sides of the camp. Fornication is frowned upon in every state, not just Texas. I was in cabin twelve with the guy that reminded me of Joe.

"Righteous, dude," he coughed and went in the wrong direction to our cabin. I went off to the cabin in the direction the counselor pointed me towards.

When I got to the cabin, I saw someone else's luggage but couldn't find the person it belonged to. There were two sets of bunk beds in the cabin so I claimed the top bunk of the one opposite the other one. I figured me and Other Joe could share a bunk if he ever found the cabin.

About ten minutes later, another guy showed up. He had his stuff with him so he wasn't the mystery roommate with all his stuff already in the cabin. The new guy introduced himself as Spencer, and took the top bunk opposite me.

"I always liked the top bunk," he said, changing his tone at the end and gestures suggesting he wanted to know my name.

"Oh, uh, sorry. Patrick. My name's Patrick," I sputtered out.

He smiled and finished unpacking. We talked for a bit, just getting to know each other. Turned out we both play in bands, as most lost causes do. He's the drummer in his and I'm the singer in mine.

About twenty more minutes into the talk, Other Joe burst through the door.

"I ended up in some kind of craft hut, man. I asked for directions and ended up here. This is the right cabin, right bus kid?" he asked me.

"Right, man," I said.

"Cool, whatever your name is," he said.

"Patrick. And that's Spencer," I said, gesturing towards Spencer, who smiled.

"Name's Gabe. I'm here because my mom found 20 grams of weed in my top drawer and got scared. And she threw it away before I had the chance to sell any," he pouted.

I had to choke back a laugh. He was nearly identical to Joe.

"Dude. Who's stuff?" he said, pointing at the suitcases on the bed underneath Spencer's.

"Dunno. It was here when I got here," I said shrugging.

"I'm taking the one under you then, Pat," he said and jumped on the bunk under mine.

I checked the time on my cell phone. It was 6:37 p.m. I knew they weren't serving dinner today. I pulled a pop tart out of my bag and started eating. We all sat around talking and laughing with Gabe occasionally asking for a pop tart. Around seven, the door swung open and a guy with the biggest grin I'd ever seen walked in.

"Sorry guys. I went outside for a smoke earlier and got caught by a counselor. A lady counselor, so I got away with it," he said and winked.

"Did she take your cigs?" Gabe asked.

"Nah," the guy said, pulling them out of his jeans pocket.

"Sweet," Gabe said contently.

"I'm Pete by the way," he said.

"I'm Patrick, that's Gabe, and that's Spencer," I said, pointing at the other two as I said their names.

"Patrick, Gabe, Spencer. Got it. So what are you guys in Jesus camp for?"

"Apparently it's not okay for a born-again Christian's son to drink alcohol at seventeen and get his girlfriend pregnant even though his parents had him at sixteen and have only been sober for two years," Spencer said, a little annoyed.  
Pete more or less decided to ignore that ticking time bomb and turned his gaze over to Gabe.

"My mom found 20 grams of weed in my top drawer," Gabe said.

"Nice, man," Pete said, looking at me with an expectant look.

"16 year olds can't smoke and Christians aren't allowed to be depressed and sarcasm is Satan's language," I said.

Pete laughed and Spencer smiled.

We all looked at Pete for his answer.

"I smoke, drink, party. I also stole some cash from family for acid I never got because I got shipped here instead," he said, still grinning.

He grinned a lot.

We fell asleep around nine. It'd been a long day, and we were tired. We had chapel first thing after breakfast in the morning. I fell asleep glad I actually liked my roommates.

After breakfast at eight was chapel at nine. There was a lot of singing and a lot of preaching. I didn't really pay much attention. I don't think anyone really was. After chapel was lunch at noon. I ate quickly so I could get out of the mess hall.

I sat under a tree kind of away from everyone else. I just wanted time to myself. Not that many people bothered me to begin with. Pretty much the only people that talked to me were Spencer, Gabe, and Pete anyway. It was only the first day of nine weeks. I sighed and hit my head against the tree. I cursed under my breath.

"That looked like it hurt," said Mr. Grin himself.

Pete chuckled at me.

"What?" I asked.

"Now, now. That's no way to talk to a fellow brother in Christ," he said.

I had to grin. I'm sure my parents wouldn't take kindly to all these Jesus jokes, but I liked them.

"You have a lighter right?" he asked.

"Yeah, front zipper pocket in my suitcase," I said.

"Thanks, man. Want to come smoke with me?" he asked.

"Yeah, as long as we don't get caught like you did yesterday. I'm not as cute as you. I probably won't get away with it so easy," I said.

He laughed really hard and pulled me to my feet. We walked up to our cabin. Once inside, I pulled out the lighter Brendon had put in there, God bless him. Pete pulled two cigarettes out of a pack in his own suitcase and handed one to me. I lit mine and then his. It had been two days since my last cigarette and I was getting pretty antsy. The withdrawal headache that I had seemed to dissappear. I sighed contentedly and leaned my head back.

"I hope the other two don't mind the smell of the cigarettes," I said.

"Gabe's cologne is called 'Perma-weed' and Spencer drinks so I'm sure he's okay with it," Pete said.

I just shrugged and kept smoking.

After lunch was small group bible study.

After that was small group pinpoint-what's-wrong-with-your-life-so-we-can-fix-it. We were put into groups based on our demons. Most of us had multiple demons so the groups were pretty general. My entire cabin was in the substance-abuse group. The other groups were depression, theft, misc. crimes, general behavioral problems, and runaways. There was also a teen-mom group as well as a homosexual group. I never considered those two things as demons.

I listened to my group message as my thoughts wandered to the cigarrette I shared with Pete. I could honestly care less about this lecture. I felt bad for the homosexual kids that were getting yelled at for things outside of their control. I'm surprised I'm not in that group, because after my loving eyes for the pool boy, I'm sure my parents put "gay" on my list of problems that needed fixing. I don't even know why people consider homosexuality as a problem other than religion. Religion seems to focus only on the bad in people and how you should live your life. I see no problem in believing in a Higher Power. It's when religion gets involved that it gets messy. I told my youth leader this and she told me that that was why I wasn't going to heaven.

By the time I focused back on the message, it was time for dinner. I ate quickly and found my tree again. Pete found me again. I really liked having a smoking buddy here because it softened the blow of missing my smoking buddies back home.

I left my friends but it was like I never really left.

Gabe is pretty much the exact same as Joe without the bushy hair. I don't know what I would do without a stoner in my life.

Spencer is pretty much Andy, taking over the best friend role. Spencer seemed to understand me immediately.

Pete is the church camp Brendon, really popular but still somehow manages to spend time with me.

Another quality that Pete has that is similar to Brendon is that although I'm getting attatched to him too quickly, he doesn't seem to mind. He just smiles and calls me his "little buddy".

The rest of the week went by uneventful. Besides Pete on the first day, no one had been caught with anything so far. I also found out that cabins are based on what we got shipped in here for. It makes sense that my roommates and I are all pretty similar. We're supposed to be helping and encouraging each other. It also makes me laugh a little because that means that the kids who got sent here for being homosexual also share a cabin. I wondered if any romance would spark. I wouldn't find out easily though because the counselors are quicker to scout out hand holding than they are illegal substances. I know this because Spencer's uncle snuck him in some alcohol and he's been drunk off his ass the last three days. No one seems to notice or care. I wonder why we're even here if no one's jumping on solving our problems.

The best we have is small group discussion. We've had a few breakthroughs. The counselors count crying as breakthroughs. Surprisingly enough, during week three, Spencer was the first "breakthrough".

We were talking about how much out parents loved us and why they sent us to this camp. While the counselor was talking, I could see Spencer getting angrier and angrier.

He finally spoke up, saying,  
"If they loved me and understood me, I wouldn't be here at all. I would be with my girlfriend at her ob gyn appointments. I would be holding her hand and telling her it was going to be okay. I would be getting a job so I could support her and the baby. I would be trying to be a good boyfriend and father. But they don't want me to do that. They don't want me to fix the mistakes they made with me. Apparently fixing my alcoholism is more important than me finally doing something right in my life. When I get back, they said they'd ban me from seeing her. I'm still gonna see her. I'm still gonna raise my baby!"

He was full on sobbing at this point. Our counselor put a hand on him and prayed. I could tell he was still mad but he didn't shake the counselor off.

After the prayer, he came and sat back down next to me. I patted his hand while he looked at me gratefully.

After dinner, I hung out with him back in the cabin. I let him vent to me and I let him drink. Pete and Gabe joined us pretty soon and it suddenly became a drunken support fest. I don't drink but I drank that night. I think that night in cabin twelve, four drunk teenagers had the first real breakthrough of the entire camp.

********************************

On Thursday of week three, Pete came home late. He did the same Friday and Saturday. When he came in on Saturday, I asked him what was up. I could see his broad grin in the dark.

"I kind of, met this girl, and I've been meeting her after worship," he said, still grinning.

I just grinned and nodded. I felt a pang in my heart and I wondered if the girl would cut into my smoke time.

I hate how easily attatched I get to people.

I patted Pete on the shoulder in a congratulatory manner and climbed in my own bunk. I pulled the covers up around my ears and fell asleep.

Sundays at camp are no different from the other days. Breakfast, chapel, lunch, free time, small groups, dinner, worship, bed.

Nothing much happens that's any different from normal.

We went to the lake on that particular Sunday, just me, Spencer, Pete, and his girl, who's name is Ashlee. She seemed pretty cool to me. Pete still smoked with me after lunch so I didn't have a problem with her.

We swam around for a while until it was time for small group. Ashlee was in the depression group, so Pete hugged her goodbye and sat down in between me and Gabe in the grass.

He grinned the whole time despite the uneventful small group. I sat back and felt happy for him. That night I asked him how they met.

"I just met her one day in the cafeteria and we started talking and I asked what group she was in and she said 'depression' and started quoting Coldplay and I dunno man," he said, grinning wider than I'd ever seen before.

I felt another pang in my heart and smiled at him.

"Well I'm happy for you, man," I said.

"That means so much coming from you, Patrick," he said laughing.

I punched him in the shoulder and climbed up to my bed.

It was harder to fall asleep this time but I fell asleep anyway.

Week four went by without anything huge happening. Ashlee was hanging out with us more, which didn't surprise any of us. It was hard for me to fall asleep that entire week.

I think Spencer noticed, because he was across from me and could probably see me tossing and turning.

He asked me what was up that Friday.

"I dunno. I've just been having trouble sleeping since last Saturday," I said, my eyes not focused on him.

Spencer followed my gaze and saw that I was looking at Pete and Ashlee.

He just shrugged and smiled knowingly.

"I know you have a substance abuse problem, but I still think you're in the wrong cabin," he said.

I had no idea what he was talking about.

I watched Pete as he kissed Ashlee goodnight and I felt the pangs in my heart again.

**********************

Week five was very eventful.

Pete screwed up.

I found out that Pete screws up a lot.

He screwed up though, and apparently it was too much to overlook. He didn't cheat on her or anything, I knew that. But he did promise he'd quit smoking for her. I knew he didn't do that. She was mad at me too for not keeping him grounded. I didn't know how it was my fault so I just walked away from her yelling. I tried to drag Pete with me, but he stayed to plead his case. It didn't work though, and she was gone.

It was the first time I'd seen Pete not smiling.

I sat in his bunk with him, patting his hand and rubbing his shoulders.

Thank God he didn't blame me for her leaving. He just let me comfort him.

In the middle of comforting, I guess I forgot to go to my own bed. I woke up in Pete's, arm still slumped around his shoulders. I felt a blush creep onto my cheeks and quickly moved my arm away. Spencer chuckled from where he was changing shirts.

"Definitely the wrong cabin," he said.

I still didn't know what he meant at that point.

Pete was still bummed into week six. He kept allowing me to comfort him. He kept allowing me to fall asleep next to him.

I noticed then that the pangs in my heart had stopped.

I think Gabe caught onto whatever Spencer did because he was smirking at me the exact same way. I didn't know what they were catching onto. Even Gabe started saying, "Wrong cabin, man."

I just shook my head and ignored them.

*

I think the end of that week was when I started understanding.

I was hanging out with the guys during free time and I found myself just wanting to hug Pete. I just wanted to hold him and tell him it would be okay. I asked Spencer later that night if he knew what that meant.

"What do you think it means, Patrick?" he asked me.

"I don't know, that's why I asked you," I said.

"So you want to hug him all the time, want to make sure he's okay? Wouldn't it just be friendship you're feeling?" he asked.

It made sense but I didn't think that that was what it was.

"I dunno man," I said.

"Could be that you love him," Spencer said.

"Of course I love him. He's the closest friend I have here at camp next to you," I said.

Spencer grinned at me. He ruffled my hair and told me to figure it out for myself.

The next day after lunch, Pete and I were hanging out like usual. I wanted to hug him again but I refrained. He caught me looking at him and smiled.

"You stare a lot, kid," he said grinning.

"I'm just not paying attention," I said.

"Likely story. Y'know, I wanna thank you for being there for me. Through the Ashlee thing, I mean. Means a lot," he said.

"No problem, man," I said.

"I love you, man," Pete said.

"I love you too, man," I said.

He pulled me into the hug I'd been wanting for so long. He's a little taller than me so I smiled into his chest.

He broke the hug and looked at me.

"Now I think I understand why Spencer and Gabe have been saying that you're in the wrong cabin," he said, grinning.

"Why?" I asked.

He bent down and kissed me.

It took me a few seconds to register. Then I closed my eyes and kissed back. I think I was a pretty fast learner, considering that it was my first kiss. He broke away from the kiss smiling.

"Wrong cabin," I said, nodding my head.

"I guess we both need to move out," he said.

I laughed and kissed him again. I wondered if this meant I had a boyfriend now. My parents sent me to a church camp to rid me of my cigarette addiction and I ended up kissing a boy.

They're really not getting their money's worth.

"Does this mean we're..." I asked him.

"I dunno. I guess," he said and he smiled.

"Cool," I said.

He kissed me and the bell rang signaling that it was time for small group. We left the cabin, hand in hand until we got around people. Spencer still saw me drop his hand and yelled,

"So when are you guys moving out?"

"Screw you, man," Pete yelled back.

Gabe and Spencer were pretty chill about me and Pete. No one else knew nor were we gonna tell anyone purposefully. We were surrounded by too much Jesus to do that. We just wanted to live in peace for a while. It's easier to kiss someone when you're not being condemned by your peers.  
And we kissed. A lot. And it was nice. Really nice. Pete told me that he never cared about people that much. He wanted to make it work with Ashlee, but not enough to quit smoking.

"But Christ, Patrick. I've been with you for a week and I would give up breathing for you if you asked me to," he said.

"Please don't do that," I said.

He laughed.

I kissed him on the forehead.

He returned the kiss, but on my lips. He pressed his tongue on my lips, asking for entrance and I granted it to him. He licked the roof of my mouth and I shuddered. He did it again and I moaned softly. He smirked into the kiss. I ran my fingers through his hair, the hair he carefully gelled every morning. His hand found its way to my ass. I tugged his hair harder. We didn't notice the door opening until we heard someone clear their throat. We broke apart and blushed.

"Small group started five minutes ago," Spencer said.

"Shit," I said, and we both scrambled up to get there.

I thanked the Lord for Spencer, although it was still suspicious for two boys to be chaperoned to small group.

It was even more suspicious for one of the boys to have messed up hair and both of them had flushed faces.

"Why are you late?" the counselor demanded.

"I was asleep," Pete said, pointing at his disheveled hair.

"And I was reading my Bible and lost track if time," I said.

"Okay," the counselor said, not fully believing us but ready to get on with the session.

He was determined to have another "breakthrough". He was especially pushing me and Pete, trying to get the truth out of us. We didn't budge, though, and we could tell it pissed him off. He dismissed all of us to dinner in a huff.

Everyone in the group just kind of looked at each other and left.

I have to admit, for an atheist forced into a Christian family, worship that night was kind of moving.

A lot of people were crying after the message, and then we sang a slow song. By that time, 90% of the campers were crying, including Gabe.

Spencer hadn't cried since his breakthrough, and Pete and I hadn't cried at all.

I wanted to cry, but I held it in.

I liked holding it in.

Nobody had to see how weak I really am. I just cry on my own when I need to cry.

I looked around at everyone else. The teen moms were already really hormonal, so they were crying, natch. Most of the stoners and alcoholics were crying. The thieves were harder to crack, as were the gay kids and the depressed group.

Being depressed myself, I know from experience that truly depressed people don't like showing people that they're sad.

I leaned back in my seat. I suddenly realized that it was cold in that room. I shivered and felt kind of moved.

I don't know if Jesus or whoever is real but if He is, I'm pretty sure He was there in that room with us.

*******************

I wasn't really looking forward to week eight. It marked two weeks until the end of camp.

I wasn't enjoying the camp, particularly, but I'd made some great friends that I didn't want to part with.

Not to mention a great boyfriend that I didn't want to part with.

I was really and truly going to miss not seeing him every day. Grand Rapids and Chicago were close, but still really far away. I was going to miss his pearly white teeth and I was going to miss his mischievous voice. I was going to miss that big, calloused hand that would caress my cheek when I was feeling doubtful, the same hand that would join the other in tugging my hair and rubbing my back when I was feeling adventurous. I was going to miss his carefully done hair. I was definitely gonna miss messing his hair up. I was going to miss his lips. Those lips always told me it was going to be okay. Those lips always knew the right thing to say. Those lips were very, very skilled. Even more skilled than his arms that held me close at night because Gabe and Spencer didn't care. I didn't want to leave them. I didn't want to leave Pete.

***

Pete didn't want to leave me either, which I found relieving. I didn't know what I'd do if I was the only one who felt that way.

"Patrick," he said lazily during free time one day.

"Yes, Petey?" I asked.

"Go to hell, fuckwad, and don't call me that," was his response.

"What were you going to say beforehand," I said.

"We're leaving in two weeks. Chicago and Grand Rapids aren't that far away, but we won't get to see each other every day," he said.

"I know that," I said.

"I don't want to leave you. This church camp didn't give me a solid ground in Christ, but it did give me something I don't think I can live without," he said.

He was still grinning, but he was serious. His serious side wasn't something I was used to.

"I don't want to leave you either. I wish I could just uproot and live with you, but it's not that easy. I wish it were easy. But I'm sixteen. I still live by my parents' rules. I know you're eighteen and you could move out but it's not that easy," I sputtered out.

"Woah, woah, Pat. Calm down. No one said anything about you moving your entire life to Chicago. I'm just saying, we won't see each other every day. We can visit each other every once in a while. We can talk on the phone every day, Skype when it's convenient. What do you think about that, Mr. Commitment?" he asked.

"I dunno. I just know that I'm a little bit in love with this bed and you and whatever detergent they use on this cover because Christ it is soft," I said.

"God you're an idiot," Pete chuckled, shaking his head.

This is a lot to read, Christ. Sorry. Thanks for stickin’ with me this long. You’re almost done, keep it up. 

He kissed me then, soft at first but growing rougher by the millisecond. In the middle of our make out session, he whispered,

"I want you, Patrick. Now."

The urgency of his voice hit me right in the heart and right in the dick.

"Now as in right now?" I asked.

"Yes," he said.

I could feel his dick growing hard against my thigh. I'm sure he felt mine when he said that thing about needing me.

I checked my cell phone and saw that we had thirty minutes until small group.

"Can we do this in a half hour?" I asked.

"If you can relax," he said.

He began pulling my shirt off, followed by my shorts and boxers.

Now I was naked and he wasn't.

No fair.

I reached up and pulled his shirt off, and threw it next to my clothes. I pulled his shorts and underwear off. I smirked because now I wasn't the only one naked.

We had twenty-eight minutes left, which meant that I had at least a minute to take the sight of him in. He had abs on abs on abs. He was tan all over, and super toned. Not overly muscular. His dick was rock hard, and he was smiling ear to ear.

"You're gorgeous, Patrick. Like a princess," he said.

"Ha ha. Just put your stuff in my places so we can get to our Jesus meeting on time," I said huffily.

“Always the romantic, aren’t ya, Patty Cakes?”

*****

"Good game," he said, slapping my ass after the do was done.

"Back atcha, with seven minutes to spare," I said.

We fixed our hair, got the hell out of there, and got the hell to small group.

After small group, Spencer came up to us and said,

"Okay, Patrick's glowing. He must be pregnant."

Gabe laughed his ass off. I shoved Spencer and Pete looked really proud of himself.

"You guys are like extra sinning because not only is homosexuality illegal in the Christian faith, but you're also at a church camp," Gabe pointed out.

Gabe had been eight weeks without any pot and he was finally coming out from being burnt. He was making a little bit of sense now.

"Plus it's premarital, which is more extra sinning," Spencer pointed out.

"And we ate pork right before," Pete said.

"So you admit to doin' it!" Gabe yelled unnecessarily loudly.

We got a few stares so I said,  
"We didn't take anything, Gabe."

The people that were staring  
looked away uninterested. Gabe just looked confused.

"Whatever. I'm happy for you two sinners," Spencer said.

"Same. I mean, we're all sinners, aren't we?" Gabe said.

"Gabe, that is the most sense you've made since I met you," I said.

"You guys don't give me enough credit," he pouted.

The rest of the week and most of week nine went by way too quickly.

On the last night of camp, cabin twelve had one last hurrah.

Spencer's uncle had discovered  
the counselor's check on things being sent into the camp. He started using false bottoms. Now we had Scotch and vodka and God knows what else.

"Well I'll be a motherfucker, pour milk in my cereal, make it snap, crackle, and pop, is that what I think it is?" Gabe asked, pulling a small ziplock bag out of the bag Spencer's uncle brought.

"Uncle Jon thought of everything," Spencer said, smiling.

"Dude, I've got rolling papers in my suitcase," Gabe said, and started looking for them.

I had only been high one other time in my life. After being friends with Joe for five years, what could you expect? But this time was way better because there were no random girls sitting on Brendon and Joe's lap. Joe and Brendon weren't even there. Neither was Andy, but he wasn't there the first time I got high, either.

Spencer probably got the most stoned. At least, he was acting the stupidest. Pete was more or less the same, as was Gabe. I was pretty chill. I blacked out first, around midnight.

The next morning, it was time to say goodbye. Gabe and I were riding the same bus to the airport, so I said bye to him then. I hugged Spencer goodbye first. We exchanged phone numbers so we could keep in touch while he was in Las Vegas and I was in Chicago. He was the best friend I had here at church camp.

Next was Pete. We kissed goodbye for a while, until Spencer stepped in and separated us. We hugged and made sure we had each other's numbers and I got on the bus with Gabe and left.

I texted my mom and told her that I was on my way to the airport.  
Her response back was  
'thts gr8 honey. Did u find Jesus and the help u needed?'

I hated her text language.

'I definitely found the help I needed,' I typed back.

If my parents ask, and they did when a tan eighteen year old guy with spiky hair, combat boots and a bouquet of flowers showed up at their front door, I did find the help I needed.

"I may be some kind of queero-sexual, but I'm sure Jesus is real," I said to Pete after the awkward introduction to the people that birthed me.

"Why's that?" he asked.

"Because He led me to you."

**Author's Note:**

> I am trash. ^.^
> 
> Sequel, anyone?
> 
> Ha ha ha no.


End file.
